The newbie
by whoever1
Summary: New job, new friends, new enemies. Lucy has landed her dream job but someone seems determined to ruin the party
1. A Stranger calls

I was in no mood to talk. As we neared the arena butterflies had taken a tight hold on my stomach. All of my effort and all of my will power had to be put to maintaining a cool exterior. It was exhausting. We arrived at the gates of the Lakeside Arena, and fans flocked around the car hoping to catch a glimpse of whoever was inside. I lowered my head not wanting to disappoint them. I'm sure I felt Phil accelerate.

Getting out of the car my head span. I had to steady myself on the hood. Breathe in and breathe out. Breathe in, and breathe out. Phil's arm wrapped round my waist, he kissed the side of my forehead.

"You'll be great. Come on."

Phil and I had been seeing each other for the past six months. I'd been travelling with the Raw roster for eight since four of the Diva's had ended up on the injury list in quick succession. One night he offered me a lift back to the hotel, the lift begat a drink (non-alcoholic of course), and the drink begat a kiss good night. After that everything had moved so quickly with the intensity of a hurricane. We had moved from meeting up with each other after shows, to him helping me with my wrestling, to travelling together, to staying together while on tour.

As Phil guided me through the labyrinth of corridors and towards the ring I began comparing Lakeside Arena to the mish-mash of theatres, sports halls, and holiday camps I had become accustomed to with house shows. It was different. It was huge. It was TV, and in that respect I was still a virgin. Phil covered my eyes, walked me through the curtains and towards the ring. Getting into the ring with my eyes clothes wasn't particularly easy but after being manoeuvred to its centre and swallowing the view I had to admit that it was worth it. Even without the fans, ten thousand seats is some sight. I felt exhilarated, I felt sick. Phil came up behind me and whispered in my ear.

"Looks pretty cool huh? Right here. This is what you've worked for"

"I think my legs have stopped working"

"It's gonna be awesome"

I slipped out of the ring and found my seat. The spot from which I'd spend the majority of my debut. I was running interference that evening, saving the face in peril. I thought Phil was going to join me but he was distracted by the arrival of Abigail Hope my nemesis for the night, and one of Phil's best friends.

"Hey."

She kissed his cheek, his hand lingered around her waist just a little too long for my liking. She turned to me.

"You must be Lucy, I've heard a lot about you" she beamed coming over to me and greeting me as she had him. "I'm Abigail. It's great to finally meet you."

Abigail had been in a motorcycle accident. Nothing too serious but she had been restricted to TV appearances in the short term. I'd heard so much about her. Massively respected. One of the last few divas to have done the circuit, to have travelled the world for her art. And she could talk. The full package. All I could say? "I'm a huge fan." Her smile widened revealing perfect white teeth. If she was embarrassed for me, she managed to hide it well.

"Thank you" she replied "I've heard some really good stuff about you too. You're impressing all of the right people. How're you feeling?"

"I'm fine", I lied.

"That's good. I didn't sleep for a week before my first TV appearance", she moved to a whisper "It's ok to be nervous. If you need anything just let me know." With that, and an "I'll catch you later Punk" she turned and left. I watched Phil watch her walk away. For a second it felt good to know that in six hours time I'd be hitting her back with a steel chair.

And six hours might as well have been six seconds. I was sitting in a capacity crowd, and the diva's match had come to an end. Abigail had demanded the microphone and was in the middle of the ring cutting an amazing promo. Eve Torres was lying on the floor at her feet.

"This is it? This is the best that the WWE can offer me in the name of competition. I mean where is my incentive to stay? What is my motivation?"

She kicked Eve in the ribs.

"For weeks I've been calling out Beth Phoenix asking her, begging her for a match. Pleading with her to bring some fire back into my belly. I need a challenge, I need something. So please, Beth, get out into this ring and face me."

She slid out of the ring and grabbed a steel chair. I couldn't keep my leg still I was so excited. Back in the ring, chair in one hand mic in the other she reissued her challenge.

"You see I have tried to do this properly. I've tried to be nice. But the time for politeness has passed. So now, get in this ring or I will end her career". That was my cue. I stood and ran to the barrier. "Get into the ring or I will break her." She dropped the microphone, I jumped the barrier and dived into the ring just as she raised the chair above her head. She was about to bring it down on Eve's inert body. I snatched the chair from out of her hands, she turned and feigned surprise at seeing me. I kneed her in the stomach, she bent double, I slammed the chair on her back, and she fell to her knees. I tossed the chair to the floor and pulled Eve out of the ring supporting her to the back stage area. And that was it. Over in a flash, and error free.

Relief swept through me, followed by euphoria, followed by an extra dose of relief. Phil and Mike were waiting for me. Phil wrapped his arms around me "First of all. Wow. That was amazing." Mike chipped in "Your timing was perfect."

Adrenaline pumped though my veins, I wanted to say something smart, something clever. "I…" I struggled to catch my breath. "I was so sure I was going to screw up. That was brilliant. I want to do it again." I turned and walked into Abigail's arms. She hugged me warmly, and then held my shoulders. "That's a buzz yeah? We have to celebrate. Hotel bar? Very good by the way. I have to go and get changed." And with that she left, Eve in tow. Mike's music hit and he vanished behind the curtains. Phil stoked my face "You did good, I'm proud of you." He kissed me, and the rest of the world faded to black. I rested my head against his and allowed myself to get swept up in what was at that point the most perfect moment of my life. Contentment.

I got the first phone call that evening. I was waiting in the car for Phil when my phone vibrated. An unknown number.

"Hello?"

"Nobody wants you here. Just leave before something bad happens."

The phone went dead.


	2. Car trouble

If the purpose of the phone call was to incite fear then it failed dismally. It increased my resolve, it made me determined, and it made me want to fight.

By the time Phil arrived I had regained my composure and settled on not telling him what had happened. Phil had the tendency to hit angry quite quickly when one of his friends was attacked. Investigations and interrogations would have occurred, it would have become an issue and I wanted to present it as a non-event. I would not be an easy target.

We arrived at the hotel just gone twelve, tired but chirpy. The only people there before us were Abigail, Beth, and Eve which was a little frustrating as out of the three of them I had only met Eve before that day, I was aware that Beth and Phil had history, and Abigail? I just didn't know. All three however were extremely pleasant. We started with shots of tequila as Phil watched on.

Gradually the bar busied up and the rest of the night was filled with familiar faces. Faces that could be relied upon to help me forget the nastiness of the earlier events and remind me that this was my night. Mike and Kelly had arrived. Out of everyone in the Wwe these two felt like friends rather than colleagues. Mike had taken the time to get to know me early on in my tenure, and had made a point of making sure I was invited to parties, and nights out after the shows. Kelly was like the sister I never had. She was the same age as me, and was a girly girl which was nice in a male-dominated industry.

That night Mike had taken it upon himself to re-educate the masses in their musical tastes. Him and Maryse had commandeered the juke box. Nothing went on without their go ahead. Kelly and I had been dancing for half an hour when the smell of food lured me back to the table.

"I got you a burger, and onion rings. With mustard, and ketchup, and jalapeños." Phil pushed the plate across to me, as I sat down next to Beth and opposite of Abigail. Both Phil and Beth were tucking into their own meals while Abigail nursed a bottle of beer, smile still plastered to her face.

"You're not eating?"

"I don't want it to soak up the alcohol."

"I can get you a plate of fries" Phil piped in.

"It's OK." Abigail looked across at me." We're getting a match next week. It's kind of jobbers duty but, you know, it's exposure. It'll be good for you. We'll make sure of that."

"They have chicken wings." Phil continued.

"I'm not hungry"

"You should have something to eat"

Abigail stood up "Jesus Christ Punk". The façade cracked momentarily. The smile was replaced, briefly, by a look of pain. Her voice veered slightly from friendly to frustrated. She took a second to compose herself, swiped her bottle off the table and stormed away joining Mike and Maryse at the juke box. I looked across at Phil. I'd never known anyone raise their voice to him, and I was intrigued as to how he was going to react. I could tell that he was irritated, His jaw clenched, his eyes widened, he looked directly at me, and I didn't know what to say.

"What the hell Phil…"

He stood up. Threw his napkin on the table and walked off in the opposite direction. I glanced across at Abigail and she was back in character. Laughing and chatting. I'd almost forgot that Beth was sitting next to me. She put a hand on my shoulder

"Can I give you some advice? Don't even bother trying to figure out what this is. It's the road to headaches and heartburn".

I shook her hand off my shoulder and smiled as sweetly as I could muster "I don't know what you're talking about"

"Ok."

And then she left me exactly where I didn't want to be. By myself, with my thoughts. I was still trying to figure out who had called, what exactly was going on with Phil and Abigail, whether I should be worried, and the meaning of life when Phil returned to the table five minutes later.

"I'm sorry. I'm kind of wound pretty tightly at the moment." He used his teeth to manipulate his lip-ring. His eyes were narrowed to the point where they were almost closed. He perked up. "But I'm back in the room now. Whatever you want, you got it". I knew that Phil hated apologising, and part of me wanted to make him suffer. The other part of me wanted to get on with enjoying my evening. "I want to dance". He allowed his head to fall down on the table then raised it slowly, a smug grin igniting his face. "Whatever" he grabbed my arm and led me to the dance floor.

A couple of days later and finally hangover free I met up with Abigail at the Salsbury gym. We were working on our two minute "match". She was sure that she could make me look credible, I was convinced that in a few weeks time I'd be back in OVW. The big names were returning and Kong was on her way. "It's all about the story" she said "We're gonna walk out there and I'm gonna be convinced that I can take you, no problems. I'll slap you round the face, show you no respect, and you're gonna hit me with a few surprise moves. That'll humiliate me, it'll piss me off big time and then I'll switch it up a gear. You'll loose, and you'll loose quickly but you'll loose because I had to take you seriously. I was forced to give you my all. And then Beth comes out. I wouldn't be surprised if you were tagging with Beth the week before the pay per view." She basked for a moment in her own awesomeness and then continued "You don't get given a push, you force it through." Yes Yoda.

Her promise to make me a star, was however, slightly delayed. Abigail was half an hour late. She ran into the gym, hair tied back, make-up free, still stunning.

"I am so sorry. I ended up in a huge row with… It doesn't matter. Have you warmed up?"

"Not yet."

"I pulled my calf muscle on my way into the ring once. V embarrassing"

She spoke to me like I was a child, but once we got going I actually had a huge amount of fun. We put together what she described as a "cute" little routine. She incorporated some of my ideas, and polished others. She was generous and I was encouragable. My competitive spirit kicked in, I wanted to put on a great show but equally, at that point in time , I wanted to show her that I could go toe to toe. By the end of the training session I was equally proud, and exhausted. She was still smiling, but breathless when we went to get changed.

As I left the changing room I saw her with Phil. He was talking to her, stroking her arm. It appeared that they had made friends. "Ok." I thought "time to play grown up." I sauntered across, and kissed Phil on the cheek linking my arm with his. "We're going to the movies, if you wanted to come with" I said, extremely pleased with myself. "I have a meeting to go to" she grinned "but thank you. I really appreciate it. And good job today. I haven't had a workout like that since forever." She kissed us both goodbye and skipped away. I patted Phil's chest "I'll drive" and dragged him to my rental car.

Which had quite literally been destroyed. The tyres had been let down, the windows had been smashed in, somebody had crushed the bonnet with a brick, and the word "bitch" had been keyed into the door on the drivers side. "Oh God" I muttered. Phil circled the car pulling out his mobile phone. He looked across to me "Hey. Are you OK?" I felt queasy I could feel the colour trickling away from my skin. I stumbled, Phil ran across and supported my weight.

"I don't understand" I murmured.

"Come on. We'll go sit down, and I'll call the cops."


	3. Mistakes and consequences

The car rental company were sympathetic but ultimately unhelpful, the cops weren't that interested, only Phil had been a rock. We'd skipped the cinema that night and gone straight back to the hotel. Phil had left me alone to take a nice hot bath, he returned half an hour later with a takeaway and a DVD. We relaxed infront of the television and fell asleep in each others arms. It almost made me forget.

A day of goofing off, and then back on the road. I'd hoped my misfortune would've remained a secret, but no such luck. Waiting to enter the ring alongside Eve Torres for a tag team match against Abigail, and Maryse, Abigail sauntered across to me.

"How are you feeling?"

"I'm good"

"Phil told me about the car. It's horrible. Who would do such a thing?"

I didn't have time to answer, Eve's music started up and she dragged me out to the ring. Eve pinned Maryse for the win. The match was a blur, and not my best I've since been told.

I'd wrestled two house shows with Abigail and by the time Monday arrived, I was ready. Abigail was in the ring and I watched her on the monitor.

"In my four years with the WWE I have been called many things. Ruthless, a liar, cruel, a bitch! But one word I have never been called is a coward. I will fight any wrestler face to face, and I will win. I don't have to resort to cheap shots, I don't have to attack an opponent from behind. I fight one on one and I dominate. Last Monday you witnessed a travesty. Some wannabe entered the ring from the audience, and they attacked me from behind with a steel chair"

"A steel chair she was about to use on Eve" the king interjected.

"Now that hurt my feelings. I've been reading a lot of books on child psychology, and it turns out that children play up when they want attention. You have my attention. I want a match. I want the opportunity to put you back in your place, to tear you apart, to teach you some manners. Get out into this ring, look me in the eye, wait for the bell to ring, and fight me fair. Come out, come out, whoever you are."

And that was my cue. I gave it a few seconds then marched through the curtains. No music, but a nice little pop. I ignored the audience, didn't take my eyes off Abigail. I jumped into the ring and snatched the microphone off her. She smirked and took a couple of steps back introducing me to the audience.

I was out of my comfort zone. I was a wrestler not an actress. I could feel my hand shaking as I held the mike as tightly as I could. I'd had nightmares about dropping it. Abigail's eye's widened, encouraging me to talk. Stage fright was my new nemesis. Slowly, hesitantly, I raised the microphone to my lips.

"My name is Lucy Jones, and I accept your challenge." I let go of the microphone, the referee scramble between us and tossed it out of the ring. In the distance I heard Jerry Lawler enthusiastically scream "Well, I love Lucy." We squared off, she struck me around the face as rehearsed and everything went like clock work. We had a good, scratch that, great for a four minute match, and I ate the pin. Of course Abigail didn't want to stop there and went about beating me to a pulp until Beth made the save. Abigail backed out of the ring, and Beth raised my hand. The crowd cheered, and it was bliss.

I'd served my purpose. Beth, and Abigail's match was set for Wrestlemania, and despite my rabbit in the headlights act Vince was apparently pleased with my work. I had another match lined up for the following week alongside Eve, and Kelly Kelly, facing off against Abigail and Laycool. And now it was time to kick back.

A new club was opening near the stadium and Phil had managed to get tickets for the opening night. It wasn't anywhere near his type of event but he knew that I loved to dance. We got there at 12.00 and somehow managed to get a table in the corner of the room. Phil nestled his Pepsi, as I knocked back shots. I gazed out onto the dance floor, itching to join in. And then I saw her, arms wrapped around Wade Barrett's neck. I looked away quickly hoping that Phil hadn't seen them. I looked across at him and my worse fears (at this point) had been realised.

"Isn't that?" he said.

"Isn't what?" I replied.

"It is"

He stood up and shouted "Abigail, Stu." fortunately the club was loud and they were otherwise occupied. I grabbed his arm "sit down, they're probably on a date." "Right" he said. I didn't want to dance anymore. I didn't want to be anywhere near her. It's petty I know. "So we're back in Chicago next week" I veered the topic away to his favourite subject, and it seemed to work. For the next twenty minutes he told me of all of the places he was going to take me to, and when I left to use the bathroom my head was spinning. We had a future.

I pushed the door open, it was the poshest restroom I have ever been in. Shiny taps, and one of those people that sell you perfume. But the décor, the atmosphere was destroyed by the sound of vomiting. The perfume lady tried to ignore it as best she could. I touched up my make-up, and winced as the cubicle door swung open I didn't want to bump into a cheap drunk, and I certainly didn't want to bump into Abigail, but that's who I got. She didn't stagger, she wasn't green, and she didn't look like she was about to loose consciousness.

"I didn't know you were here." she smirked.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah, we had seafood. I think it was off, but it's ok." she pulled a toothbrush out of her bag, "It's gone now."

"Right."

"Are you ok?" she said looking at me, "I get the feeling sometimes that you don't really like me."

"Why wouldn't I like you?" I reapplied my lipstick "So you and Wade?"

"We're just friends"

I left her to brush her teeth and returned to find Wade/Stu, sitting at our table. Phil made the introductions and I sat down hiding my displeasure rather convincingly I thought. Abigail joined us a few minutes later, and then the night became all about Abigail and Phil sharing stories, reminiscing over the past. I left the club feeling slightly less than content with my lot.

My next TV appearance came around and miraculously Phil and I had managed to avoid the clutches of Abigail for a full week. So this time, when I saw her I didn't want her to die horribly. First Abigail, and then Laycool were introduced to a chorus of boos. Kelly Kelly was out next, and then I entered the arena with Eve Torres – I still didn't have my own music, and our entrance wasn't televised. I locked up with Layla and our match began. It very quickly turned into a cluster fuck. Michelle attacked Eve from behind taking her out of the picture, she then entered the ring distracting the referee. As she did so Abigail entered the ring and joined Layla in a 2:1 beat down. I got to my feet and bounce off the ropes into a clothesline from Kelly. I fell to the floor. I wasn't ready for it, my head smashed down against the mat. Dazed and confused I just lay there as the referee tried to clear up the chaos. That wasn't supposed to happen, Kelly wasn't supposed to be there. I felt like my head was going to fall off. In the back of my mind I heard the sound of hands clapping then felt myself being pulled to my feet. It was Abigail, she said something I didn't hear what, and then she swung me across the rings and against the ropes. What was she doing? Couldn't she see that I was hurt? I bounced off the ropes and she scooped me up in her arms before slamming me down on the mat. She pinned my arms and I felt my leg being pulled into the air. I have a faint recollection of the referee hitting the mat three times. Abigail stood up and I heard her music play. She kicked me in the ribs and left the ring. I could hear Layla and Michelle laughing, and then Kelly's voice "I'm so sorry, are you alright?" She stroked my cheek then helped me to my feet; we stumbled away from the ring.

Backstage Abigail waited alongside a concerned Phil, Mike and Beth. Phil put his arm around my shoulder but as the pain began to ease my anger grew.

"What the fuck was that?" I yelled "You could see that I was hurt and you just carried on. You could've killed me"

Abigail seemed surprised by the outburst.

"You were fine." she muttered.

"Naha. I could barely move. I was no condition to wrestle. You just dragged me to my feet and threw me around like a rag doll."

"Nothing was going to happen to you." She turned to leave. "I get it. You've got a thing for Phil, and you don't me very much. But seriously you need to keep your personal feelings out of the ring. Act like a professional. Jesus Christ."

I rubbed my head, Abigail turned back to me. First she looked embarrassed and then she looked angry. Apparently it was her turn. "You should be thanking me" she stormed, "Your second televised match and you made a mistake. Not me, not Layla. It's not my fault you can't take a bump properly. I hauled your arse around the ring while you were seeing stars because the truth is if that match was called off your career would've been over. You're second match, you fucked up, I covered for you, and you're welcome." She stormed out.

"Ha, can you believe that?" I looked around to my friends, or at least I tried to. Most of their eyes were pointed south. Only Phil looked directly at me, and his face betrayed a mixture of anger, and confusion. Eventually Mike broke the silence. "As soon as she saw what happened she tagged herself in." Then Beth, "I'm sorry honey. Safest pair of hands on the roster"

I looked across at Phil, desperate for something. A hand on my shoulder, just a little reassurance. I was so sure he would understand. I was frustrated, and I was hurt. "Phil?" He just shook his head and looked away. "Fine. I should apologise." and I walked away towards humiliation, towards humility, towards the women's locker room.


	4. Shattered glass

I slowly eased the door open. Abigail was pulling every item out of her bag with a ferocity that appeared unnecessary for purpose. "Can I come in?"

"Give it five minutes and I'll be out of your hair." she mumbled.

I felt guilty. "You haven't showered yet."

She smirked "You want to shower with me now? Wow, we are up and down today."

I walked into the locker room and watched her throw all of her belongings back into her gym back. Sweet uncomfortable silence, and then "You know what really gets on my wick. The fact that you think that I care so little about my profession that I would purposely injure another wrestler."

She swung her bag over her shoulder and strode past me. I swallowed my pride and said it "I'm sorry". She slowed to a stop, took a deep breath, then turned to face me forcing a smile. "It's fine". She sat down next to me, "I don't know what you think, but I have no intention of stealing Phil from you, and I'm certainly not planning on ending your career to get you out of the picture." she was grinning now. "We'll put this down to a bad day. You were hurt, you weren't thinking straight, it's done. You should get your head checked out." She paused momentarily "The bump. I'm not implying that you're crazy." And with that, she was gone.

That night I couldn't bare to be around Phil so instead opted for a girls night in with Eve, Maryse and Kelly. We went straight to Kelly's hotel room from the stadium. The wine was flowing and I went from nought to tipsy at a rate of knots. My eye was starting to swell up, Kelly purred over me trying to make things better apologising continually. We talked music, we talked movies and eventually we got to talking about Phil.

"So how are things between the two of you?"

"I don't know. Everything was fine and then Abigail." Grace and decorum had gone at this point, and I was swigging wine from the bottle. "She, I don't know what it is. She complicates things. She's got some strange sort of hold over him."

"It's always been the same. You know, I think that they are just really great friends. I've never known of anything else between the two of them, and I have first hand experience. It's almost impossible to keep a relationship secret around here."

"I don't know. I just sometimes wish she hadn't come back from her injury you know? I wouldn't want anything bad to happen to her but. I don't know."

Kelly's eyes darted around the room and she leaned in closer to me and lowered her voice. "Between you and me, there was no injury, they totally made it up. Worst secret ever."

"What are you talking about?"

She hushed me. Eve and Maryse were giggling, oblivious to and uninterested in what we were talking about.

"Apparently she had some sort of breakdown. Completely lost the plot. A lot of people didn't think she'd be back. Rumour has it that Vince had to get involved. Force her to get some help. Didn't want to loose his pet project. I don't know what she did but it must be pretty huge. She must have, you know, really freaked out. Suddenly she'd been involved in a motorcycle accident but nobody was allowed to visit her and she just disappears. She's always wearing sleeves, to hide the scars but you know what, that's just good selling."

"Wow. For real?"

"Absolutely. She must be really fucked up"

"Why hasn't anyone else said anything?"

"Nobody wants to get on her bad side. The only diva Vince has any real interest in. People talk about the sway that Michelle has but it's nothing on Abigail's. Michelle goes to Taker. Taker goes to Vince. Abigail goes straight to the boss. She can make or break your career."

"You don't seem to like her very much."

"I like her just fine, but I never got on her bad side. Speak to Serena, ask her what happens if Abigail doesn't like you."

At that point I was hit on the side of my head by a cushion. Maryse's accent rang out "Why are you so serious?" I took another swig of wine then smiled feebly at her.

I woke up on Kelly's floor at 4am an empty bottle of wine next to my head. As comfortable as I was I decided it was time to go to my own room. Eve and Kelly were asleep on the bed. Maryse had already gone – I couldn't remember her saying goodbye. As quietly as I could I searched for my key and shoes then used the walls to support myself along the corridor.

I found our room to be empty. I checked the wardrobe, Phil's clothes still hung on the hangers. Relieved, I fell onto the bed and straight to sleep.

The first thing that I noticed when I woke up was that the mirror opposite the bed had been smashed the word "Leave!" written across it in bright red lipstick.


	5. Flying objects

I sat alone for breakfast, trying to force myself to eat. Every smell in the room made me want to vomit. This was shock mixed with hangover and I didn't much like it.

"Morning princess." Mike sat down opposite of me. "You look slightly better than Maryse this morning. I literally had to check for a pulse, I thought she was dead. Good night?"

I smiled "I think so. I can't really remember. Have you seen Phil?"

He took a slice of bacon off my plate and spoke while he ate "We went to a gig last night; he went on to a pal's house to play Xbox"

"Oh." I nodded "And Abigail?" I tried my best to make the question seem innocent.

"She headed down to the beach about an hour ago. Open water swimming, she's a little bit loco. Anyone else?"

"No." I gave up on food throwing my knife and fork onto the table. Mike eyed my plate greedily. "Do you want to finish that?" I asked.

"If I have to."

I slid the plate across to him "I need to show you something."

After he finished we went upstairs to my hotel room and I finally told someone what had been happening. It felt good, like a huge weight had been lifted from my shoulders. "This is terrible" he whispered, gingerly touching the broken mirror. Slithers of glass littered the desk in front of it. "You should tell Vince".

I slumped onto the edge of the bed, exhausted, wiped out. "I don't want it to become a big deal"

"But it is a big deal. I've put up with my fair share of hazing but this is something else, If you don't speak to Vince then I will."

We sat next to each other in silence for a few minutes just staring at the mirror. Eventually Mike broke the lull. "Do you have any idea who's doing this?"

"There's only one person that I can think of. Abigail"

Mike raised an eyebrow. I almost expected his patented "Really" as a reply. "I think you're wrong" he said quietly.

"There's no one else. There's no one else that I've butted heads with.

"Technically you instigated the head butting"

"And she was at the gym when my car was trashed. In fact she was late. She had plenty of time to…"

He cut me off "And what's her motive?"

"Phil. She can't stand that we're together. You know she's probably been in love with him for years"

Mike sat quietly for a few seconds, putting a great deal of thought into what he was about to say. "Abigail turned Phil down. He told her he loved her not too long before he hooked up with Beth. He was pretty cut up about it from what I can remember. Moped around like a teenage girl. So motive wise that's pretty weak"

"Well maybe she changed her mind, realised she'd made a mistake. I know she's had mental problems."

"Yeah, but that was more…" He stopped himself. "You shouldn't listen to gossip. Abigail wouldn't hurt anyone. That's all you need to know." I felt as though I'd been slapped round the face "But we'll figure this out" he continued wrapping an arm around my shoulder "I promise".

We heard a key in the door then Phil's voice "I'm so sorry, I know you probably think that I was in a mood with you or something and that's why I didn't come back but that's so not true." The door swung open. Phil came into the room "I lost track of time, and when I realised it was too late, I didn't want to wake you up." I felt the tears start to trickle down my face. Mike pulled me in tighter. Phil looked across from the two of us, to the mirror, and then back at us.

"What's going on" he rushed across to me then fell down onto his knees next to my feet. I fell into his arms.

The police left five hours later, and like last time little was resolved. They were sensitive, they said all of the right things but in the end I think that they suspected me of attention seeking. Phil was reluctant to leave me alone during the interviews, but despite his "glued to my shoulder" approach to support I managed to get five minutes with the female police officer before she left. I told her all about Abigail, her obsessive relationship with Phil. How she was the only other person around when my car was trashed. She promised that she'd arrange for someone to talk to her. I was thankful, maybe it would frighten her, buy me a little quiet.

Management instructed us to keep things to ourselves, on a need to know. So as you can imagine it took less than seven days for the majority of the roster to find out what had happened. In just over a week it had filtered down to the dirt sheets. And just like that it was all over the internet. No suspects were mentioned, just the fact that I had a "crazed stalker".

I was the locker room pariah. Some people looked at me as though I was a loon, others avoided me all together. Either I was a little bit psycho smashing mirrors, trashing cars, and trying to get other people into trouble. Or I had a genuine psychopath chasing after me. Either way I was not safe to be around. The number of matches I was scheduled to fight reduced significantly. I got it. I was bad publicity, but it wasn't all bad.

Due to the increased attention my tormenter was notably quiet. On top of that Phil was worried for my safety; he got to spending every waking second at my side. I know he still spoke to her on the phone but he was spending less time with Abigail on a day to day basis, and as a result our relationship was growing stronger by the second.

Outside of my little bubble, the buzz in the WWE was immense. The road to Wrestlemania.

The two rosters were pretty much merged as all of the big names were being positioned for the event – as such my T.V time had reduced massively, I considered myself fortunate if I got a match on superstars.

A month after the incident I was taping a match for "Superstars" at a RAW live event in Maine. Lucy Jones vs One of the Bella's. I was booked to look strong. Arms raised in the centre of the ring, Nikki and Brie lying at my feet. I was getting over with the crowd slowly but surely. The applause wasn't raucous but it was warm, they'd wanted me to win. The response that I was getting was already bigger than that received by most of the women's roster.

I was feeling damn proud of myself as I sauntered, sashayed back to the women's locker room. The Bella twins were already in the shower giggling, and talking to each other in their strange twin language. Kelly sat in the corner of the room flicking limply through a fashion magazine. She bought her finger up to her lips "Shh. You don't want to wake sleeping beauty". She raised her eyebrows cynically and I followed her eye line to the other end of the room.

Abigail slept soundly on the dirty bench under the coat rail. I hadn't seen her in forever and it instantaneously felt as though all hope had been sucked out of me via my stomach. "I'll be quiet" I said, and headed towards the shower. By the time I came out Kelly, Nikki, and Brie were gone. Abigail was still fast asleep snoring slightly I was pleased to hear. I got changed as quietly as I could, but just as I was about to leave Abigail's phone started to ring. I froze. Grouchily she fumbled around in her bag till she found the offending item and looked at the screen. Her face contorted into an expression I had never seen before. It was pure hatred. She launched the phone straight at me. It missed my head by just a couple of inches and smashed against the tiled wall.

It stopped ringing.


	6. Escalation

Immediately she jumped to her feet "Shit, fuck, Lucy. I didn't know you were there." And then she starts smiling like we're chums – Abigail Hope, the girl next door. "I'm am so sorry" she exhaled as she scrambled around on the floor gathering the remnants of her phone. I knelt down to help "I got that." she grinned manically almost snatching a piece of my hand. Abigail wasn't at her best I noticed. Her eyes were bloodshot and circled black. It seemed to me as though she hadn't slept for at least a day or two and perhaps hadn't eaten for a similar length of time, she'd lost some weight since the last time that I'd seen her. She staggered over to the sink and splashed water onto her face while I tiptoed towards the door hoping for a quick get away. Again I was to be disappointed.

Drying her face she called across to me "I heard what happened. The police came to speak to me; I expect that they've been speaking to everyone. It's horrible… You should have told someone sooner" She pulled her make up bag out of a rucksack and applied concealer to her face. I waited patiently, knowing she hadn't finished. "I meant to call" she continued earnestly, "but, you know, life get's in the way of our best intentions."

I stared across at her trying desperately hard to keep my feelings from my face. "Tired?" I asked.

"The difference between Phil and I, is that I struggle to cope on less than eight hours a night. Thank God for make-up. I doubt that Vince would let me on screen looking like this".

I gave a quick "hmm" and stood up to leave.

"By the way, I almost forgot. We're going to be wrestling again next week. You may even be getting the pin – via interference of course. They figured that the amount of bother I've been providing Beth with she's gonna want her revenge." She smiled triumphantly. "They were talking about Kelly, or Eve at one point but I've lost to the two of them tons of times. I thought it would hurt my character more if she lost to the newcomer. And you know, symmetry and all that, you were there at the start of the feud – it makes sense for you to help continue it."

"That's amazing" I grinned, actually chuffed.

"That's not the best of it. Eight minutes we get. That's enough time to put together a neat little story."

"That's awesome"

"So I'll call you later in the week. Once I've replaced this" She smiled waving the remains of her recently deceased phone at me.

Maybe I'd got her wrong.

Later on in the evening the whole of the WWE was buzzing. It had been a great night; it had been an awesome night. Everybody had been at the top of their games from the lowliest jobber to lord Saint John Cena. The crowd were rampant; they roared for their heroes and poured venom on those who were morally challenged. Word had got down that Vince was thrilled and when Vince is happy the entire roster, the announcers, the cameramen, everyone involved in the product gets a little bit fuzzy. They were all pretty pleased with themselves. Even Abigail seemed to have cheered up and was back to her usual flirtatious self. Giggling and laughing with Mike, I wondered briefly what Maryse would think of her hanging off of Mike's arm, gazing into his eyes, reacting to each of his words as though he was frigging Shakespeare.

And then I chastised myself. I was bigger than that; perhaps I had to accept the fact that when it came to Abigail I was a little paranoid, a little judgemental. She saw me staring and waved me over grinning warmly.

"Hey lady, we're going to get some Japanese to celebrate. Do you and Phil want to join us?"

I'd almost reached them when my phone started to ring. "Hold that thought" I smiled, turned away and foraged through my bag. My phone was always right at the bottom, I really did need to think about organising it better. Finally, success, I raised the phone to my ear. "Hello?"

At first I didn't notice anything, then I heard one of the divas (I think it was Kelly) shriek. A pain seared, burnt through my palm and up my arm. I looked down. Blood poured from my hand, down my wrist. The cell fell out of my hand and landed on the floor. Kelly ran over and led me towards the corner of the room, spots of blood marked our trail. Faces staring over at us blurred into one.

"Jesus Christ!", it was Abigail this time. She ran across to me and helped Kelly get me down onto the floor. She grabbed my wrist roughly and pulled it over to her face to get a closer look. "Kelly go and get some help" she barked "Layla get my bag." both girls followed orders. Despite my career choice, despite the fact that bumps and bruises are part of the job I'd never been able to cope with the sight of my own blood. I felt sick, I felt faint, I felt empty. "Open your hand" robotically I did as I was told. She poured water onto the wound then ripped open an antiseptic wipe. "This is going to sting a little" she said as she dabbed gently at the cut. She leaned in and looked closer. "Can you wiggle your fingers?" I tried, I succeeded, and I was ridiculously relieved. She wrapped gauze around my hand. "It looks a lot worse than it is." she smiled sympathetically, "I think it's going to be fine."

The world started to drift back into place. Faces reformed. I could focus on items other than my own blood, on comments, on expressions, on Abigail's hands. They were shaking, she'd seemed so calm. But now. I looked up at her face, it was empty, shocked. "Are you ok?" I whispered. The whole of her body was frozen except for her eyes, they darted from side to side. "Abigail." I said, slightly firmer. She shook herself awake. "Sure" she exclaimed "I have to go." Nervously she pushed herself to her feet, almost bumping into the medic that Kelly was bringing over. She'd also grabbed my bag and phone. She slid down the wall onto the floor next to me. "I couldn't find Phil." she said. The medic unwrapped my hand and began his own examination. Kelly used my phone to call Phil's number, I heard his ringtone from within the crowd as he pushed his way through. Mike stopped him as he was just about to reach me. He whispered something into his ear. "Go and make sure she's ok" Phil mumbled back then knelt down next to me. Frustrated that even now he was checking up on her before checking up on me I slammed my head back against the wall. "Lucy?" It was Kelly; I looked over at her just as she pulled a large slither of broken mirror out of my bag "What's this doing here?"


	7. Accusations, confrontations

As we lay next to each other staring up at the ceiling it became apparent that while the last attack had bought Phil and I closer together this one had served only to drive an invisible wedge between us. The air was thick with tension. It was oppressive. It was suffocating. I just lay there, listening to the sound of him breathing, getting angrier by the second.

Phil broke the silence "I should probably tell you. Vince has decided that Abigail and I should work together. At least until Wrestlemania"

"Oh."

"It's just a time-saving device. A way of building our storylines up at the same time."

"Awesome." I sneered spoiling for a fight.

I wanted to shout, I wanted to yell. Phil's voice remained calm. "Don't be like that" he mumbled. I cut him off "And how do you want me to react? Great news, that's really exciting. I hope the two of you'll be very happy together." He turned away from me; apparently he didn't find the idea of a full-blown argument quite as appealing as I did. "I don't understand why you think I'm being so unreasonable." I told him, "At best my boyfriend is telling me that he's going to be spending more time with a woman he used to have feelings for, and at worst …" I stopped.

Phil had turned over and was staring straight at me, daring me to carry on. "At worst what?" he asked coldly.

I looked back at him refusing to blink. I took a deep breath. "At worst you're telling me that you're going to be spending more time with the woman who's threatened to kill me."

"This again?" he muttered getting out of bed. Silently he gathered his clothes which were scattered across the bedroom floor. I knelt up on the bed watching him get dressed.

"This again! I'm sorry if it's inconvenient but somebody tried to rip my hand apart today. Where are you going?" I demanded.

He looked across to me "I'm going to have sex with Abigail. And then we're going to sit up in bed cutting letters out of the newspaper and using them to compose poison pen letters" His voice was cold, empty. It was cruel. He sat on the edge of the bed putting his shoes on. I crawled up behind him and placed a hand on his shoulder. I felt every single muscle in his body tense up.

"Phil" I said. My voice trembling with pain, with rage, with every damn emotion under the sun. He was silent, unmoved. "Phil?" I implored. He turned around and looked at me. His eyes flashed with anger for just a second, then softened. I wanted to cry. I wanted to bleed.

He took my hand "I don't want to fight with you, but you have to understand that every time you argue with her, every time you point a finger at her, and you accuse her, that's one of my best friends. I don't want to choose." He took my injured hand and stroked the bandage. "This wasn't her. I promise you that."

I crumbled "I don't understand why anyone else would…" He cupped my face in his hands and stroked away a tear that rested just underneath of my eye. "There's no reason, it's just some nut-job out for kicks"

"Exactly" I cried, "Please Phil. Someone told that she had a breakdown. That she went crazy. That her motorcycle accident was fake. Just an excuse to get her off the television"

"Who told you that?"

"It doesn't matter. But you all tiptoe around her. You, Mike, and Beth. And you want me to believe you but everyone's keeping secrets from me."

"Abigail was in a motorcycle crash. Her bike wrapped itself around a tree."

"You say that, but I looked it up on the internet. It was mentioned on a few of the websites, there was a WWE statement. But no collaborative evidence. No police reports. No photographs of the crash site, and the dirtsheets, they're usually all over that sort of stuff. And how come nobody visited her at the hospital?"

"I visited her at the hospital", he smiled, "Now unless you're going to call me a liar we should get on with making friends again." He kissed me on the forehead then kicked his shoes off. "Vince knows about it. Everyone is looking out for you now, nothing is going to happen, I'm going to make sure of that." He started to kiss my neck. My head was swimming. I desperately wanted to believe him but I couldn't.

My phone started to beep, a text message. I leant across Phil and grabbed it, relieved for the interruption.

An unknown number and seventeen words "Attempt one, a warning shot, you got off lightly. Next time I'll leave less to chance. Go!" I handed the phone over to Phil and stumbled into the bathroom. I heard him say "God dammit" just before I threw up.


	8. Abigail

If I thought I was the only one annoyed by Vince's decision to mess with the Wrestlemania story lines then I was hugely mistaken. Phil dropped me off at the gym a few days later to go through my match with Abigail. It was 5am, and practically empty. I stopped outside of the changing room on hearing raised voices.

"It's bullshit. All that work and just like that we have to change everything. No one's going to believe it. It doesn't make any sense."

A quieter voice chimed in. A voice of reason. I couldn't make out what was being said, but apparently it wasn't enough to appease Abigail.

"All that should matter is that I've been doing this for ten years, I am great in the ring and I am great on the mike. I don't need my hand held." Again the muffled voice interjected before Abigail cut them off "This is my job, and if they don't think that I'm capable of doing it anymore then maybe it's time to move on."

I was torn. Part of me wanted to wait outside, I was sure that if I'd stayed there with my ear pressed against the door some of my questions would've been answered. But I knew the longer I stayed there the more obvious it would be that I'd been listening especially if I'd walked in at the end of the conversation. Slowly, begrudgingly, I pushed the door open.

"I just don't know how much longer they're…" Beth interrupted her. "Lucy, hi!" Abigail turned and smiled at me. Overly friendly, a little too composed. "Hey. How's your hand?"

I rubbed it absentmindedly "It's still sore. I have to keep it wrapped but it's no bother." I lied, "I didn't thank you for taking care of me." She pulled her trainers on "You don't have to. I'm going to warm up, I'll see you out there"

It was actually amazing working with Beth and Abigail, watching the way they bounced idea's off of one another. They'd fought with each other so often that they were almost in sync – finishing each others sentences and talking in code. There were differences though. Beth had a very no-nonsense approach to working with a newcomer. It made me realise how generous Abigail had been during our first training session, how she had patiently listened to my ideas and gently pushed me in the right direction in terms of move selection and telling a story. Beth wasn't quite so tactful, if she thought one of my ideas was ridiculous she said so and she told me why. It was tough love I guess. She was also much more specific about what she wanted to happen, while Abigail seemed quite comfortable to wing certain sections of the match Beth was much more rigid – she wanted me in specific sections of the ring at specific times so she could make her presence known. At first this was frustrating but as Abigail pointed out afterwards "This is a big storyline for us, and this is the last encounter that we have full control over before we get thrust into the Punk/Orton shenanigans. She just wants it to be perfect." Possibly because of their different approaches to working with a newbie I learnt a lot that morning.

Beth convinced me to go shopping with them after training. They had to buy outfits for the post-mania party and down time was soon to be limited. We got to the mall just before twelve. The workout had been hard, my legs ached and my hand was throbbing. The last thing I wanted to do was walk around shops for the next few hours. Thankfully Eve, Kelly and Maryse were waiting near the entrance when we arrived; I'd been convinced that Beth was trying to force Abigail and I to bond. The presence of the other girls reduced the chances of the two of us being left alone.

"I already know what I'm getting" Eve bragged "I found it on the internet last night. This way." We followed through the crowds of shoppers into a small boutique. The dress was beautiful, off the shoulder, deep crimson in colour. "And now to dress all of you" she smiled sweetly.

We had a lot of fun that afternoon, it surprised me how involved Beth and Abigail were in the activity. I'd always seen them as different to the other divas, divas that didn't care about clothes, and make up, and looking pretty – but away from the ring they giggled, and purred, and tried on countless outfits. We were like a group of teenagers choosing dresses for the prom.

Trying to be friendly I ran across to Abigail a one-shoulder cocktail dress hanging over my arm. "Here, try this on" I thrust it into her hands "If it works there are some shoes next door that'll go really well."

She smiled at me awkwardly "I can't wear that."

I took the dress back and held it out trying to figure out what was wrong. The colour was great; it wasn't too slutty, maybe a little short. I must have looked confused. "I have to have sleeves" she said.

Shit. Without even trying I'd managed to put my foot in it. She seemed to read my mind "It's fine, really. Everyone forgets."

"I bet the scars must have all but healed by now." I panicked, attempting to dig myself out of the grave, "I bet they're barely noticeable."

"Probably, but I still see them. She changed the subject "There was a bag, in the first store we went in, it'd go really well with your dress."

I hung my mistake up on the nearest rail and linked arms with her, "Lead the way" I grinned.

Back at the hotel and in a much better mood Phil and I joined the other wrestlers at the bar. The drinks flowed freely and after a couple of hours everyone (other than Phil) was a little tipsy. The conversation moved to the party, I was surprised at how excited everyone was but I shouldn't have been. This was the only time of the year that everyone involved in the project would be under the same roof. On a personal note, it would be the first time that I'd get to rub shoulders with the likes of John Cena, The Undertaker, and Randy Orton. They stayed in a different standard of accommodation when we were out on the road. I was tempted to take an autograph book. I was definitely taking my camera.

The conversations were getting rowdier. The banter flowed. Beth had let slip that both she and Abigail - the only single divas on the roster - had dates for the shindig. After much poking and prodding she then confessed that she was going with an events organiser she had met through some promotional work she had done at the start of the year. It was Abigail's turn to fend off the questions. Various names were being thrown at her. Wade Barrett, the newly single Drew McIntyre, Heath Slater?

"He doesn't work for the WWE" she said shaking her head.

Mike piped up "So he's a wrestler. You know, you said he doesn't work for the WWE, if he wasn't a wrestler you'd have said he's not a wrestler."

Beth grinned "Well done Sherlock"

"So who is it?" he asked undeterred"

Phil joined in "Oh God, it's Moxley" he looked across at me "She's always had a thing for Moxley" I had no idea who Moxley was. "He works the independents, done a couple of death matches" He looked across at Abigail, "The guys a nut-job"

"Best promo man in the business" Abigail said pointedly.

Mike slammed his hands down on the table in good humour "Really? Really?"

Phil smirked "You're breaking my heart. He's a bit young don't you think?"

Abigail remained composed "It's a three year age difference old man. There's like ten between you and Lucy."

I stroked Phil's arm hoping he'd stop. Thankfully he got the message "I guess it'd be cool to meet him, see what he's really like. Find out what you find so fascinating"

"I think you'll like him" Abigail smiled warmly. Her eyes had widened. She was desperate for his approval. Phil stayed quiet.

Kelly dragged her chair round to my side of the table and sat down next to me. "Are you ok?" she asked quietly. She needn't have. Phil's attention was elsewhere. His phone rang, he hesitated for a second staring at the caller ID then left the table with the phone pressed to his ear. I watched him walk away far enough from the table so that no one could hear what he was saying. "Earth to Lucy" Kelly continued, waving her hand in front of my face.

"Sorry" I said forcing a smile.

"You don't have to apologise, I can see you're upset about something."

"I'm fine" I replied.

"Beth told me about the changes, to Phil's storyline. How do you feel about that?"

"At first I was furious, but what can you do? What Vince says goes."

"Not necessarily" she leaned in closer to me glancing quickly across at the others. I liked drunk Kelly. She was usually so careful about what she said, and who she said it to but after a couple of glasses of wine she was a hive of information. Once she was sure that no one was listening she continued, "For whatever reason Abi has a lot of pull backstage. Don't let her tell you otherwise. There was an incident last year, before Wrestlemania. Long story short Abi was supposed to wrestle and Michelle ended up taking her spot. It was pretty brutal actually. Vince offered her the opportunity to walk The Miz to the ring, so she'd still get paid, but she turned it down. She went off in a huff, just disappeared for a couple of months. Anyone else would have been fired, just like that…" she clicked her fingers "… when Abi gets back nothing gets said. There was no heat, she wasn't made to job for a couple of months, in fact she requests a transfer to Raw, the A show, and she gets it. She was supposed to turn face in her split from the Miz last year, she said she didn't want to and voila she didn't have to. Michelle's leaving soon. She's supposed to be feuding with Layla before she goes. That's a Wrestlemania feud but Abi wants to wrestle Beth and what Abigail wants, Abigail gets. Now she's in a storyline with Punk. Well?" She gave me a few seconds to take it all in then continued "I'm just telling you this because I know the two of you aren't exactly BFF's. But you should be careful. Play the game. Stay on her good side."

Phil came back to the table, his face grim, colourless. "What's wrong?" I asked stroking his leg. Our eyes locked as he considered his response. "I, um..." was all that he managed his face creased up in uncertainty. He carried on past me and walked across to Abigail placing a hand on her shoulder and guiding her away from the others. I don't know what he said but within seconds she had crumbled, I watched as the life seemed to seep out of her body, out of her face. And then she wept, loudly, unapologetically. Beth ran over and helped support her weight.

We all watched as Phil tried to calm her down. We watched her push him away and struggle to break free from Beth's arms. It was obvious that this side of Abigail was new to most people sitting at the table. Some of the others whispered uncomfortably amongst themselves as she sobbed uncontrollably. I focused all of my attention on reading Phil's lips I could just about make out a "shh, it's fine, we can handle this." before Beth led Abigail away.

Phil returned to the table sheepishly and crouched down next to me. "I have to sort something out" he said softly. His face projected a vulnerability that I'd never seen in him before. Whatever had happened, whatever he'd been told, he didn't know how to deal with it. He'd always been so sure of himself, so confident in his own skin, now, he was lost. "Of course" I nodded, "Is there anything that I can do?"

A look of relief swept across his face "Thank you. No." he stumbled over his words "Actually. Yes. Stay here with Kelly until I get back. I don't want our friend seeing this as an opportunity to get you alone. I won't be long."


	9. Answers but no resolution

Phil didn't sleep that night. He went through the motions - lay down next to me, even managed to labour his breathing – but when he thought I was away to the world he got up and he paced. He was wired. I could almost see the cogs working through his skull, twisting and turning at a ferocious velocity – too quick to work properly, too fast to provide any real answers. A nervous energy bounced off the walls, and off the ceiling. I could see the sparks. I could see that he wanted to scream, wanted to vent, wanted to fight.

Every now and then his cell would provide a distraction of sorts, it's screen would illuminate his contorted features, his eyes would burrow into the phone and then with a jolt of frustration at either no news, or the wrong type of news his pacing would begin again. Eventually his laps of our very small hotel room took the role of sheep and I fell into a troubled sleep, constantly subconsciously aware of his frenetic presence.

I awoke the next day to find that he hadn't rejoined me in bed; instead he sat three inches away from the television screen watching a cheesy daytime soap. The hum of the TV was relaxing in it's normality.

"Morning princess" he'd seen me stir and bought a cup of coffee across to the bed.

"Thank you." I took a few seconds to inhale the aroma and chase the grogginess away. Phil sat next to me and wrapped an arm around my shoulders. He looked frazzled, his eyes wide, his brow furrowed.

"Is she ok?" I asked, aware that I was on thin ice, fighting back the urge to ask anything more in depth.

"I don't know. I spoke to Vince; she's going to take a couple of days off. She asked me to tell you not to worry, she'll be back to work on Monday."

"She doesn't have to worry about that" I smiled then took a sip of coffee. It wasn't as hot as I usually drank it. It felt like he was waiting for me to wake up. "Are you ok?"

He winced. It looked for as second as though he was going to fob me off with an "I'm fine", or "Sure." but he stopped himself. He wasn't looking at me anymore; his eyes were glazed over, locked in on himself, searching for an answer. Eventually, "No." Tears welled. Then he grabbed hold of himself, took a deep breath. I knew that he wouldn't tell me anything else. He changed the subject "But I have some amazing news" he pulled a sheet of paper out of his back jean pocket and placed it in my hand. "The updated card for Wrestlemania, barring injury this is how it's going to play out."

At first I wasn't sure why he was showing it to me. The divas match had been set in stone for quite some time. Then I saw it. Michelle had managed to muscle her way into the event after all, and I was thrilled. A dark match, Natalya and I vs. Laycool. I used my pillow to muffle a scream and then I looked back at Phil. His smile was as wide as mine. "Thank you" I beamed.

"This has nothing to do with me. You deserve it." He pulled the quilt off of me. "Come on. I'm going to take you for breakfast."

The end of the week was difficult. I was supposed to have been working on my match with Abigail at the house shows but in her absence my opponent was Brie Bella who wasn't even nearly on the same level as she was. Some of the spots we had booked for our match on Monday were fairly intricate and involved moves that the Brie could only dream of executing. Realising that I was still unsure of some of the moves, Beth had taken it upon herself to do some extra time in the ring with me – and if I thought she was harsh at our first training session I had a rude awakening. By the time Monday arrived I was battered, I was bruised, I was bushed.

There was a buzz backstage. Everyone was talking about Abigail's meltdown and she was notable in her absence. Nobody had seen her. The tag team titles had been defended. The Miz had done his thing backstage calling both John Cena and The Rock hypocrites – demanding their attention. And it was time for some diva action.

Abigail's music boomed out across the arena and I got my first sighting of her that evening. She had her character down pat, as she walked out to the ring with a mixture of self satisfaction and contempt smeared across her face.

Inside of the ring she waited for the boos to die down before raising the microphone to her lips. "It's very easy to keep abreast of what's happening in the WWE universe. Everything that happens is shown on that huge screen just above the entrance. Monday night Raw is shown all across the world, and it is repeated several times throughout the week. You get recaps on "Smackdown" and "NXT", and programmes such as "Afterburn" show you the highlights. You can watch video clips on and the internet is abuzz after every single show. People share their opinions on forums, on facebook, and on twitter. The point that I am getting to is if something is said, if something is done it's difficult to miss. If for example Beth Phoenix were to say that she could beat me with one hand tied behind her back, I'm going to see that. I understand that you're tired of our war of words Beth, you want to fight, and you want to get it over with. Well here I am. Wanting, Waiting."

Beth strode out of gorilla doing her best pissed and determined. Abigail stopped her "A a a. You said that you could beat me with one arm tied behind your back." CM Punk attacked Beth from behind sending her sprawling to the floor while Abigail kept on talking "You know I have just a slither of respect for you." Punk pulled Beth up to her feet and began to awkwardly wrap tape round her left arm and waist. "I would never say such foolish things. You did, and I am going to make you eat your words." Punk threw Beth inside of the ring and Abigail helped her to her feet before slapping her round the face.

"Ring the bell" Abigail yelled. The two women stalked each other round the ring Beth booked as still being dangerous despite the handicap. Abigail grinned at every wild attempt Beth made to take her off her feet. Suddenly her arrogance got the best of her. Beth managed to grab Abigail's hair in her free hand and used it to thrust her face down onto her knee over and over again. Punk pulled Beth away while Abigail checked her nose for blood. Her smile had vanished replaced by a look of revulsion. Abigail threw Beth over the top rope and things looked bleak for the Glamazon. Then, a roar from the crowd, Randy Orton ran out to make the save. He took Abigail's arm and flung her along the entrance ramp out of the way, fists flew into CM Punks face, Randy tried to loosen Beth's bonds but the numbers game got the better of him as a returning Abigail and CM Punk teamed up to wear him down.

A dum dum dum….

The chimes of the anonymous general manager interrupted, Michael Cole took to the platform and stared at the laptop screen. "Can I have your attention please. I've just received an email from the RAW general manager. And I quote. 'Cease and desist, all four of you have matches lined up at Wrestlemania in two weeks time. Any unsanctioned action between the four of you will result in your removal from the card, and your termination from the WWE. Next week you will fight in a mixed gender tag team match, the winning team will be able to choose the stipulation for their matches at Wrestlmania. Tonight CM Punk and Randy Orton will pick each others poison selecting each others opponents for tonight's main event. Abigail, seeing as though you're in the ring and desperate to wrestle you will have a match tonight but it won't be against Beth Phoenix."

My music played. I walked out into the arena waving to the crowd passing Phil on my way to the ring, he winked at me and I resisted a smile. Beth waited for me at the bottom of the ramp, we high fived and I got into the ring. The crowd were appreciative and I milked their response. I could hear Michael Cole complaining loudly about how unfair it was that Beth could stay ringside, Jerry Lawler reminding him that if Beth got physically involved she would be fired.

The bell rang and we circled each other. Abigail put her hand out, a gesture of sportsmanship. I shook my head, "I'm not stupid" and we locked up. Abigail took control early on, dictating the pace of the match, keeping it grounded. Every time I tried to speed things up she'd counter with a power move. I'd slingshot off the ropes she'd very nearly take my head off with a clothesline. I'd climb up on the turnbuckle; she'd bring me down with a cutter. I was being sold as the plucky underdog refusing to give up. Kicking out of numerous pin attempts, refusing to submit to her favoured submission move – a modified surfboard (When hope fails.) Abigail was becoming more and more frustrated. Her attacks were becoming wilder, less composed.

Compounding her inability to put me away was Beth's presence at ring-side. She goaded Abigail while willing me on. Four minutes into the match she hit me with a back breaker then covered me for the pin. The referee counted one, two, and then Beth pulled my leg onto the ropes. Abigail was furious. She stood up and started arguing with the referee. "I'm not asking for help, I'm asking for you to do your job." Beth got onto the apron and joined in with the argument. I scrambled to my feet, bounced off the rope and planted Abigail's face onto the mat. I sat on her back hooking one arm around her neck and using the other arm to pull her arm backwards.

Fuck. In setting the move up, in twisting her arm around her sleeve had run up past her wrist revealing the pale flesh underneath. At first I felt vindicated, the bottom of her arm was blemish free, motorcycle crash my arse. Then I saw them, nearing her elbow. Several small cuts lined up parallel to one another. Most of them were silver in colour, some a very light pink, but two stood out. Ugly, vivid, scarlet. I felt her breath against my ear "pull my sleeve down", then back in character she let out a scream. Her head fell down onto the mat and she bought her free arm awkwardly behind her neck slapping, scratching at my face. I released the hold, and she rolled out of the ring. "You watch her ref" she shouted, pointing at Beth.

I took a few seconds to compose myself then looked across at her, her eyes were wide – rabbit in headlights wide, I wanted her to know that I'd look out for her, that it was going to be alright. The referee began the count to ten and she just stared at me, nobody else knew what had happened. The crowd booed at her reluctance to re-enter the ring. Beth moved around to her and whispered something, I'm not sure what "What're you going to do? Throw me back in?" Abigail responded, falling back in to her role. She then approached Beth talking trash, getting right into her face. I took the initiative, rolled out of the ring, grabbed Abigail with both arms, and threw her back in. But it was a cheap heel tactic, I followed her into the ring and she was back on the offensive. A boot to the head, she pulled me to my feet, bounced me off the ropes and hit a snap suplex. She raised her arms to a chorus of boos then waited for me to stand. I got to my feet playing groggy, just as she was setting me up for her finisher, a vertebreaker (hope falls), Beth jumped onto the apron. Abigail let go and turned her attention to her enemy. I took advantage of their argument to roll her up for the pin. One, two, three.

An upset victory. The crowd went wild. Abigail rolled out of the ring and walked backwards up the ramp to the exit, shouting wildly, pointing accusingly. Beth joined me in the ring and raised my arm.

"What happened? You went off script." she whispered, a forged smile plastered across her face.

"I saw her arm."

"Fuck"

Backstage a smiling Kelly greeted me and informed me that Abigail had already left without showering and without changing her clothes.

"That was a great match" she grinned.

"Thank you. Can I borrow your car?" I asked. Kelly seemed slightly perturbed. "I promise I'll have it back by the end of the taping" I attempted to reassure her.

"Fine" she smiled, "but you look weird, at least sit down for five minutes, relax, and have a drink. Compose yourself"

"I've got a bottle of water in my bag", I told her "I'll be fine."

She tossed the keys over "Do you want me to come with you?"

"It's ok".

I drove to the motel and convinced the clerk to tell me which room belonged to Abigail. I paused momentarily outside of her room, the sound of voices causing a slight hesitation. I knocked twice, quietly, almost regretting my decision. Hoping that she wouldn't answer, then I could return to the stadium knowing I'd done the right thing. The conversation faded then Abigail opened the door. She invited me in.

"There's a bottle of wine in the kitchenette. Help yourself", she didn't seem all that surprised by my arrival. She sauntered past me and plonked herself on the end of the bed next to her laptop.

"Have I interrupted something? I heard talking." My gaze drifted to the counter top. A bread knife sat glimmering.

"Not to myself, don't worry. And you don't have to hide the sharps. I think it's time that you met someone" she smiled, then picked up the laptop and rested it on the desk. A middle aged woman with silver bobbed hair looked out from the screen "Is that your mum?" I asked.

"No." Abigail laughed "This is Deborah"

On a slight delay the woman waved a hand "It's nice to put a face to a name. I don't watch wrestling." I waved back awkwardly.

Abigail cut in, "Deborah's part of my support group. I'm not able to attend the same church hall every single week so Deborah keeps in touch with me via skype."

"I've heard a lot about you." smiled Deborah.

As if watching a tennis match my head flipped from side to side as the two talked at me, "Deborah thinks I've been unfair to you. She thinks that I should tell you what's been happening seeing as though it's affecting your relationship with Phil. And I think she might be right." She looked across at the computer screen, "I'll give you a call later" She closed the lid on the lap top then looked across at me. "Please sit down.

I did as I was told while she poured herself another drink. She sat down next to me a little too close. "Last year I was in a pretty serious relationship with a wrestler on Smackdown. For a long time things were perfect, our careers were on the up. He was pegged as the next big star, and then he changed. He was always strung out, irritable. I found out that he was on drugs. I tried to get him to stop, to help him, and for a while it worked but eventually it became apparent that my support wasn't enough. He fell back into habits, and he fell hard. I didn't know what else to do. He wasn't a name at the time but he was destined for big things. So I spoke to Vince directly about getting him help. He agreed to look after things, take care of things quietly, deal with things personally. I went home and Vince arranged to meet him in private. I got a message on my phone from Vince – everything was going to be OK, he was going to voluntarily check himself into rehab the next day. The next morning there was a hammering on my door. You know where I live, he'd driven all the way to mine from Stamford without sleeping, he was a wreck. I could see that he'd taken something. I tried to push the door shut but he forced it open. He was screaming at me, accusing me of being jealous of his success, of trying to ruin his career. I did my best to reason with him, to pacify him, but we got into a fight. He beat the crap out of me, and then he raped me."

"That's terrible. How come I didn't hear about any of this?"

"The McMahon public relations machine. I was put into a private hospital. Vince came round, offered to keep everything quiet which at the time suited me just fine. I didn't want anyone to know what he'd done to me. He was forced to go to rehab, forced to attend counselling, and somewhere along the line he found God. I was moved to the A show, got a payrise, a job for life. Vince got to keep his cash-cow, everyone was happy."

"Obviously not."

"No, and to Vince's credit as soon as he realised how screwed up I was he went into overdrive. I couldn't move for experts and do-gooders. I was re-educated on my eating habits, had one to ones with the best therapists money could buy. My friends and colleagues were told I'd been in a motorcycle accident while they tried to fix me."

"How did Phil get involved?"

"I don't have any family; he was down as my next of kin. He was there right from the start. He was my rock. I told Beth and Mike so he didn't have to deal with me all by himself but I know that I still lean on him too hard sometimes. I'm sorry."

"He's your bestfriend." I tried to reassure her.

"I'm his burden." she smiled weakly.

"What happened last week?" I asked.

"The new Wrestlemania card. He's a name now. It's difficult to keep him off of the pay per views without people asking questions. "

And so I knew, she answered all of my questions but I didn't feel any better for it. I apologised over and over again. She apologised over and over again. An hour had passed and I realised that I had to leave otherwise Kelly would be left at the stadium without a ride home.

The journey back was difficult. I felt woozy, I wanted to vomit. I'd only had a glass of wine, I was fine to drive but my eyes were trying desperately hard to close despite my brain knowing better, I just wanted to sleep. I glanced over at the time and then back at the road. I tried to concentrate on the sounds coming from the radio but the DJ's voice echoed in and out of my consciousness. It felt like I was sitting in the back of the car watching myself drive. I closed my eyes just for a second, intending to blink.

My head fell back against the seat.

A car horn blared bringing me back into the real world. I was heading straight towards the fencing at the side of the road. I slammed my foot down on the brakes and narrowly escaped a crash. The shock of the almost accident should have been enough to wake me up but I was still dazed, still exhausted, I felt intoxicated. I phoned Phil but had to leave a message on his answer phone – he must have still been in his match. I fell asleep at the side of the road.

A message came through, I'm not sure how much later, a message from an unknown number. "Tired?" I fell back to sleep.


	10. Safe?

A blinding white light

and a voice

"Miss Jones?"

Then black.

"Lucy? Lucy, can you hear me?"

A blinding white light.

My left eye lid was being held open. I could feel my eyes desperately trying to roll into the back of my head.

"What do you want?" I slurred

"Lucy. I need you to tell me what you've taken."

"Nothing. I haven't had anything. I just want to take a nap." I was so tired. The voice was bothersome. The light again, and this time I was conscious enough to make out the form of a young paramedic shining a pen torch square in my face. I waved my arm in an attempt to bat him away.

Then Phil's voice "Is she OK?"

"Miss, we're going to have to get you some help." I was dragged out of the car and onto my feet. My legs were cement. I felt another person's arms underneath mine as I was supported towards a van, and then nothing.

I woke up god knows how many hours later in a foreign bed. It felt as though I was dying. The sweat was pouring from my face – ice cold against my molten skin. I couldn't stop shivering. I tried to sit "Hey."

"Shush, shush, shush. You don't have to say anything." Phil stood up from the chair next to my bed and gently lowered me back down. I took a few seconds to scan my surroundings. Off white bed linen, grey flooring, off white curtains hanging from a steel rail. A hospital.

"Why am I here?"

"You left a message on my cell" he forced a smile "It was pretty garbled actually. I spoke to Kelly and she told me you'd chased after Abigail. I spoke to Abigail and she told me you were heading back to the arena. I found you unconscious in your car."

"Why. Why am I here?" My throat was hoarse, a thousand needles stabbing at the back of it. He helped me to drink from a glass of water.

"They think you were spiked. They're running some tests."

"That's ridiculous." I murmured, "all I had was a bottle of water and a glass of wine at Abigail's"

"That doesn't matter right now. Just get some sleep. I'm right here."

It was difficult to resist his suggestion.

I had a nightmare.

I was back in the car. My vision was blurred, my breathing heavy.

Another car pulled up infront of mine it's headlights on full blast, burning my eyes into submission. I struggled to open them as someone got into the car next to me I felt their warm sticky breath in my ear.

"I could finish you off right now" they whispered, "but the truth is that I'm having a blast."

My chin fell onto my right shoulder. I forced my eyes open and the first thing that I saw was a lip ring. Phil grinned, he wrapped an arm around my shoulder then put his phone up to his ear.

"My girlfriend's in trouble, I need a paramedic." He managed to sound concerned but the smile never left his face. He kissed my forehead "Just get some sleep. I'm right here."

I woke up.


	11. Home sweet home

They say there's no such thing as bad publicity. They're wrong. In Vince's eyes it was all too fresh to be incorporated into a storyline and my presence at Wrestlemania was going to be a distraction.

"I'm sorry kiddo, this isn't your fault, it's business." The promises of a renewed push when it had all blown over did nothing to lift my mood.

Just like that, my hopes, my dreams. Gone. I was a wrestler who wasn't wrestling. I was pointless.

I went home for a couple of weeks. My parents were in Fiji so I had the house to myself. It was quiet, it was empty but it was home and it was as far away from the circus as I wanted to be at that time.

I purposely ignored the internet, the forums, the dirt sheets - the only communications I had from inside of the wrestling world were with Phil and Kelly.

At first the talk had been that Kelly would replace me in the dark match before Wrestlemania but in the end they'd opted for a handicap match. Natalya against Laycool to really get the crowd into Natalya's corner. At first Kelly was furious with creative's inability to make a decision and then she was furious with their inability to make the right decision. Her hard work, her dedication to the cause, to the company was constantly being ignored. Listening to her gripes and her problems took me away from my own.

Phil was an annoying constant. Apparently once the police had decided Abigail's glass of wine was not the cause of my poisoning she'd been spending more and more time with Moxely in Cincinnati. Phil was free of his albatross and in need of a new damsel in distress. When he wasn't working he was flying back and forth between my house and Chicago. If I'd have been told a month or so before that it was possible to get bored of his presence I wouldn't have believed it but at that moment in time his love, and his attention, and his fussing had me climbing the walls.

In a way I understood it. He'd watched Abigail fall off the rails and he had taken it upon himself to make sure that the same thing didn't happen to me. When he stayed over not a moment of my day went unmonitored. My activities, my attitude, food intake – it was all under the microscope.

Two weeks later and straight after Raw he called me from the airport to tell me his flight had been delayed.

"You don't have to come" I told him, trying to sound as calm as possible.

"_I'll still be there."_ he replied, _"I'm just going to be a little late that's all. I don't want anything to happen to you."_

"Jesus Christ Phil. I'm a grown woman. I've managed to survive the last twenty two years of my life just fine. I'm not Abigail. I neither need nor want to be babysat." I'd lost my temper, and I felt like crap. He was silent. I'd sounded like a child, and it should've been no surprise that I was being treated like one. Not wanting to hear the rebuttal, confirmation of my unreasonableness I slammed the phone down.

A short while later, after a long hot bath and a solace-seeking conversation with Kelly I went to bed. Despite my mind working overtime I found sleep quickly and would have remained in a near catatonic state if it wasn't for the sound of a trash can being overturned in the backyard. When you're home alone every single sound is magnified by a thousand and one dust cart might as well have been a thousand. I sat straight up and I panicked.

Without thinking I ran down the stairs, switched on the kitchen light and looked out. I couldn't see anyone so I switched the light off, opened the door and stepped outside.

Nothing.

I called out "Hello?"

Silence.

"I can see you." I shouted. I felt embarrassed and slightly paranoid as the words left my lips but then the bushes in the back of the garden rustled and I saw what looked like a man's leg disappear behind the wall.

"Shit" I pushed the door shut turning the lock then took a few seconds to breathe before running frantically to the living room and grabbing the phone.

The doorbell rang, and the phone fell out of my hand. "Fuck." I fell down onto my knees and picked the phone up again. 911. "There's someone outside. 1111 Everglades. Hurry." The doorbell rang again and I bolted into the kitchen pulling a knife out of the drawer.

Through the back window there was a splash of light like a bolt of lightning, or the the flash of a camera. Then a pounding on the front door. I pulled the phone up to my ear. "I don't know what to do." I sank down onto the floor tears streaming from my eyes. A second later a rock smashed through the window landing next to my feet. I screamed, and then salvation.

A voice.

From the front door. "Lucy. Open up."

I focused my attention on the voice. I recognised the voice.

"Lucy. I just heard you shout. You don't open the door I'm going to have to break it down." It was Phil. I crawled across the kitchen floor and ran to the door swinging it open without a thought.

"Oh God Phil, thank god, he's here. He's in the backyard." I went to hug him but he barged past me. Through the hall, through the lounge, and into the kitchen. He stopped momentarily, examining the damage, surveying the glass littered floor. Then he unlocked the door and disappeared into the night. I screamed "Phil!" but he'd vanished.

I stared out into an abyss and the most terrible of thoughts crossed my mind. I'd made a stand, I'd stepped away from Philip Brooks, CM Punk. A man who was used to fawning, and adoration. A man who rarely heard the word no. Then straight afterwards an attack. The stakes had been raised. I'd been scared and conveniently he'd turned up to save the day. I was with a man who needed a damsel in distress, who needed to be in control, and now he was outside chasing shadows. Chasing a man who was sure to disappear.

A man who been hired to put the frighteners on me?

Another knock on the door – the police. I turned to them "There was someone outside. He.." And then Phil approached from behind them. A man's head underneath his arm in some sort of sleeper hold. "I found him, and I found this" he stated grimly, flinging the man forward and handing a camera to one of the officers. "And what's more, I know him. He works for the WWE, a camera man."

An ordinary man. I didn't know his face, he looked regular, mundane. Slightly podgy, slightly balding, middle aged. An everyday Joe. It didn't compute. The attacks had been so personal, my assailant had known my every move, this man, he was nothing to me, a nobody. There was no way he could've…"

Phil interrupted my trail of thought, speaking to one of the officers "You're aware of the situation, right?"


	12. Aftermath

"John's going to talk to you about moving across to the Smackdown brand. One of their baby faces is lobbying for a move to Raw, and you'd be the natural replacement. The crowd have really taken to you."

"Oh." I was walking around in a daze – barely acknowledging the words of other people. There were so many thoughts galloping around in my head that their simply wasn't enough room for anything else.

"I don't think you should go" Abigail paused as if expecting some sort of response. When none was forthcoming she continued, "Things over there, it's a bit more cut throat. While the men tend to do better, the woman's division, it's Michelle's little empire. She gets pushed, her friends get pushed, and everyone else fights over the scraps. I don't think you're ready for that sort of environment, not yet, I mean you've hardly had the smoothest introduction to the WWE it'd be nice for you to get a full understanding of our world before you have to deal with political bullshit, but it's going to be your choice, John assures me of that and I could see the appeal in a new start."

"He still hasn't said anything"

Tom Foster – WWE camera man had gone mute. Not even a "no comment" had passed his lips. The police had searched his apartment and found hundreds of photographs documenting the whole of my television career with the WWE. Pictures from both inside and outside of the ring. Motel receipts proved that he'd been staying at the same place as me when my mirror was smashed. They'd found rhohypnol in the back of his sock drawer, and most damming of all they'd found the phone. It was cut and dry, his silence screamed guilt. But something about it didn't seem…"

"Of course he hasn't said anything. I mean what can he say other than 'yeah, I was in her garden taking photographs'. The guy's a nut job and the sooner you put this behind you the better."

She smiled reassuringly and a wave of guilt swept through me piercing at my brain. I stopped eating. Since that night Phil and I were still a little unsure around one another and surprisingly Abigail had stepped up to the role of chief comforter.

"Did you know him?" I asked.

"Name doesn't ring a bell, although I haven't worked a Smackdown show for a while so why would I?"

"He worked on Smackdown?"

"That's what Punk said. I thought you knew."

"No." It added fuel to my already suspicious mind; our paths could barely have crossed. "You see that doesn't make sense."

"What about crazy makes sense", and again that smile, "Seriously forget about the cameraman and start thinking about your career. You should come to Wrestlemania. The sooner you show your face, the sooner the rumours stop flowing; the sooner things get back to normal. Moxley and I'll be flying to Atlanta on Thursday. You should come with."

The message alert went off on her mobile. She checked it, and tutted. "And call Punk. He's driving me mad. How's Lucy? Is Lucy ok? Make sure she's ok for me. He really came through for you the other night. Chasing, apprehending the cameraman single handedly. That's kind of special."

She smiled again and patted me gently on the shoulder before scraping her things together and leaving me with my thoughts.

I took her advice and flew to Atlanta but not with her, I went the next day and met up with Phil. At first I was apprehensive. I knew that I'd been unreasonable and truly expected to be torn apart. But I got off the plane, went through security, and when he met me he didn't say anything, just wrapped his arms around me and held me for an eternity.

Wrestlemania came and went in a whirl of flashing lights and fake tan. I watched the whole show through the curtains insanely jealous but tremendously proud of my friends. Beth and Abigail delivered the best women's match I had seen in years. Phil's match was only eclipsed by that of the Undertaker and HHH, and I actually cheered when Mike pinned John Cena only to wince when he received the Rock bottom.

And after Wrestlemania, the party.

It was all so exciting. Just being in the same room as people like The Rock, and Undertaker bought me out in goosebumps – a fact I had to hide from too cool for school Phil for fear of being on the receiving end of his "they're no better than us, just better at ass kissing is all" speech. There was a class divide of sorts. The "bigger" stars kept themselves to themselves, rarely venturing away from their own tables, going through the motions of partying rather than actually enjoying the festivities. This was just another appearance to them. I took the opportunity to introduce myself to as many of them as I could, and they were all extremely polite but more joy was to be found with the little people. Dancing, drinking, and murdering songs on the karaoke machine. After Mike and I had treated the rest of the roster to our rendition of "Born to be wild" I staggered away trying to find the restroom. I paused on hearing voices.

"_So he'll be moving down to Florida soon."_

"_It'll make sense."_

"_That'll make things easier I guess. Him being in one place."_

"_I hope so."_

"_I don't get it." There was a pause. "You and him. It doesn't make sense to me." It was Phil._

"_What's there to get? He's funny, he's laid back, he's uncomplicated" and Abigail._

"_So he's stupid."_

She said something back to him but her words were muffled

"_You can do better, that's all I'm saying."_

"_Really?" her tone was light. I could hear her smiling._

I turned the corner to get a closer look but neither of them saw me. Preoccupied. She was propped against the wall, staring down at the glass of wine in her hand, unwilling to make eye contact. He was standing directly in front of her. Well within her personal space. A confident grin was painted on his face. He nodded "Really. I never understood why you didn't give me a chance. We could've made it work. We would've been awesome."

She sighed gently"Not this again."

And then everything played out in slow motion.

He took a step closer to her, "We could be." he said, then cupped a hand around the back of her neck, stroking her cheek tenderly with his thumb.

She shook her head, "No we couldn't."

He moved in for a kiss. And then the world came back to life. Abigail shoved Phil across the corridor. His back slammed against the wall.

"You have got to be fucking kidding me", a figure barged past me knocking me to the floor, and lunging towards my soon to be ex. It was Moxley.

A look of panic swept across Abigail's face as she attempted to intercept, as she attempted to put herself between Phil and his attacker. But it was to no avail. Phil was pinned against the wall by the younger man. Moxley's arm tight against his neck.

"Jon, let him go." Abigail's words fell on deaf ears. Moxley's attention was focused solely on Phil, "I knew you had a reputation", he snarled. Phil just stood there chewing gum, the same self-assured grin plastered to his face. The smile that up until then I had found so charming.

"And what you gonna do Moxley, you gonna hit me? Because management would love that."

"Jon, please." His grip relaxed a little as he turned to look at Abigail. "How long?" he asked, there was little venom in his voice just pain. A look of disbelief took over Abigail's face – the question had offended her but he was oblivious to that and continued "I mean maybe I should've seen it coming. How could someone like you...? Am I some sort of joke to you? Is this amusing? Did you both have a laugh at my expense?"

Phil piped in "It's not funny, it's tragic"

"You keep talking; I'll kick your ass. Abi?"

"There's nothing happening" she answered weakly.

And then I found my voice. "She's telling the truth."


	13. An old threat

Abigail and I, we sat in silence. You haven't experienced awkwardness until you've been sat in a room completely alone with the woman who stole your boyfriend. I knew deep down that she hadn't done anything wrong, that Phil had never got over his infatuation with her. She'd just been herself but that didn't stop me from hating her, just a little bit.

"I could call Kelly, see if she wants to come round." She said, taking a sip from a glass of water. Her sleeve slipped down a little, revealing the ugly scars, a harsh reminder that I couldn't be too aggressive with her. I couldn't lose my temper.

"No." I smiled. "It's embarrassing. I."

"You have nothing to be embarrassed about."

Moxley had gone to get pizza leaving us alone to talk. If I was a better person I'd have recognised that they needed time to themselves. They needed time to talk. But I didn't want to be by myself. I didn't want Phil to have the opportunity to get me alone, and I especially didn't want anyone else to know what had happened. I was already the source of a serious amount of gossip.

"Look, Lucy, I never lied to you." Her phone rang interrupting her trail of thought. She checked caller ID, and then clicked reject. "Punk and I. There was never anything. "The phone rang again, and again she rejected the call. "It must have been horrible." The phone rang for a third time she sighed deeply and then she answered. "Phil this isn't…"

Then she went quiet. She was actually listening to him. Listening to what he had to say. It was infuriating. I wanted to scream. The reason people like him never learn lessons is because those around them give them a constant stream of second chances. "Phil wait." She said. Her face had lost all colour, she looked across at me and I tried to get a read as to what was going on in her head. Guilt? Concern? I couldn't figure it out.

"She's fine, she's here" She continued. "I'm going to put her on speaker phone." Tenderly she patted my knee "You need to hear this" then she clicked a button and put the phone on the floor between us. I prepared myself for his lies, for his excuses. I didn't prepare myself for…

"It wasn't Tom Foster. Vince just called. He started talking. He's confessing to the photographs but he says he was paid by a wrestler to keep tabs on you. He didn't drug you, he didn't smash the glass. He's not willing to give up a name until his lawyer gets there. Whoever it is, they're still out there. You're not safe."

I grabbed the phone, switched speaker off, and held it tight to my ear.

"What are you talking about? Is this just a way.."

"I literally just got off the phone to Vince. I. It sounds different. Are you still on speaker?" he sounded ruffled.

"No. I"

"Good. I didn't want to say anything to Abs. It's one of the divas Lucy. Tom Foster was hired by a female wrestler, I can't be sure that. She knows I know that you're with her. Nothing's going to happen. Just stay put. I'm on my way over."

I switched the phone off and looked across at an expectant Abigail.

"I'm going back to my hotel." I stated, daring her to challenge my decision. I could look after myself. I didn't want him running to my defence. I didn't want to be in debt to him. And in all honesty I still wasn't sure I could trust him. What if it was a ploy? What if it wasn't a diva? What if Vince hadn't called at all? I could go back to my hotel. Lock the door, and the only person I would have to worry about overnight was my sweet self.

"You don't need me to tell you that that's a stupid idea. Safety in numbers and all that jazz."

"I don't care. I don't want to see Phil. I think he might…"

"Look, Phil's not a bad person; he's just a dick is all. You're crazy if you think. He won't let anything happen to you."

I grabbed my things together not looking for a fight.

She carried on. "Seriously Jon'll be back in ten minutes. At least let us drive you."

"No" I was close to shouting. "I have to go."

"Then Mike! He didn't drink much cause he has promotional stuff tomorrow. He can take you back; make sure you get in safe. He's just along the hall." She smiled at me desperately and I sat down on the end of her bed. It wasn't an awful idea. Abigail picked up her phone and called him.

The journey back was tense. Neither Mike nor Maryse, who had tagged along, seemed equipped to deal with me, neither of them knew what to say. As we pulled up in the motel car park Maryse tried to crack a joke, it didn't go well.

It was raining outside. Despite my protestations Mike got out of the car with me, and after insisting that Maryse lock herself in we walked across to the door. The room was undisturbed. Mike insisted on checking the bedroom, bathroom and kitchenette thoroughly before leaving. "I know you're probably gonna bark at me for saying this. But if you wanted to come back with us then…" He never got to complete the sentence. There was a noise outside. He put a finger to his lips, and before I could stop him he'd tiptoed out of the door.

"Hey" I heard him say, it was a friendly greeting "What are you doing here?" Then there was a groan and a thump against the window.

"Mike?"

The front door creaked open and my tormenter came into the room.


	14. Stand off

She smiled as she closed the door behind her, turning the lock to block my escape. The blade of her knife bloodied, and pointed straight at me glistened terrifyingly. Immediately my mind turned back to everything that had happened. Who had always been there? Who had singularly, been in a position to make sure everything had happened? She was shivering, she was soaked, but she didn't seem to notice.

"Kelly?"

"Surprise!" she grinned.

I moved forward, towards the door but she lunged with the knife forcing me to jump back. "Is Mike ok?" I asked.

"I don't think so. I cut him. If it makes you feel any better he didn't expect it. There was no fear." I watched as the rain water mixed with his blood and dripped to the floor. "But then" she carried on, a wild look in her eye "this wouldn't have happened if you'd have driven home with me that night, after I'd spiked your bottle of water. You'd still have ended up dead, but he'd have been alive, and really he hasn't done anything wrong. It's a shame."

"Why?" It seemed such a pathetic response to what I'd discovered. But it was all I had.

"Why?" apparently she agreed, "You turn up, and everything is handed to you on a silver platter. You're with us for what, six weeks before you start screwing Brooks."

"This is about Phil"

"You are such a child. No this is not about Phil. You're not listening to me. Do you know how long I've been with this company? I was practically a child when I turned up and they had me stripping on ECW, my mum and dad were so proud. Do you know what I told myself? I told myself it's fine. A means to an end. I did as I was told, and I worked my ass off."

"What does this have to do with me?" I could hear a noise outside, talking. It sounded like Maryse. She must have been calling the police. If I could keep her talking, rambling, then I might make it out.

"That's a good question. For a whole year I played my part. Nobody wanted to talk to me. Nobody wanted to help me out. The women that could wrestle, they looked down on me; I was an embarrassment to the profession. The women that were like me, the pretty girls. They saw me as competition, and they did everything in their power to make me feel ugly, and useless. And then Abigail joined the company. Did you know she wants to go into training after she retires? She's looking for a career. And she saw me as a project, took me under her wing. We work tirelessly to improve my wrestling, to get me ship-shape."

I inched closer to her. I knew that I could take her if I could keep her distracted.

"I moved from ECW to Smackdown. Everybody said that I was improving. Everybody! You look on the internet. Everybody said how much better I got. And then a couple of months ago I overheard Michelle talking to Layla. She was leaving. She's leaving. I thought wow. This is it. This is my time. And then you. You come along, start fucking a superstar, and I can see your push coming from a mile away. Abigail called me, while she was off having her mental breakdown, asking what you were like. I knew that it wasn't about Phil. You see, she's never looked at him like that, she's never been interested in him sexually. So I knew that he must have asked her to look out for you. So much work, so much effort, and you were going to come along and steal everything that I had worked so hard to achieve. That's just not fair."

There was a hammering on the door but she didn't seem to notice. I tried to peer through the curtains but couldn't see flashing lights. It wasn't the police.

"So I tried to scare you away. And then I realised how childish, how pathetic you were, so I thought there would be some fun in watching you fuck everything up all by yourself. I played with you, I planted the seeds. It must be Abigail, Abigail is hopelessly in love with Phil, she wants to steal him away."

The door to my room crashed open and Moxley fell to the floor. Abigail followed him into the room, helping him to his feet. Her eyes darted around the room as she tried to figure out what was going on.

"Oh thank god" it was Kelly who spoke. "I came round here. To make sure she was ok. Just like you asked me to. And she'd flipped." Kelly pointed to the door, "Mike. She stabbed Mike. I tried to stop her." She started to cry, she actually started to cry. "She found out about your breakdown, she said that you were trying to steal Phil and she was going to stop you. She killed Mike, she was going to kill me, and then stab herself in the stomach. Your fingerprints are on a glass over there. She was going to blame you."

Abigail looked straight at me. "Mike's ok. Maryse is with him. He's still breathing. The paramedics, and the cops, they're both on their way."

Kelly screamed "Why are you talking to her."

Abigail turned to Kelly and matter of factly replied "There's blood on your knife"

Kelly looked down and then smiled a chilling empty smile. Devoid of warmth, devoid of sanity. "Well I guess you got me."

From the corner of my eye I noticed Moxley, slowly making his way around the furniture. I'm not sure whether I gave the game away but Kelly saw him too. She scratched at her head with the knife, "Do you think I'm stupid?" then pulled a gun out of her jean waistband. "I came prepared." She pointed the gun at Moxley "Who the hell are you anyway?" she asked before firing the gun wildly in his direction.


	15. Dead?

The next few minutes went by in a blur. They say that significant moments play out in slow motion, that every single sensation is magnified – I have a different theory. Every single person caught up in an incident is stuck in their own distinctive time loop, their bodies working at entirely different speeds. I was on a go-slow and everything happening around me was in fast forward. From the few seconds after it all kicked off very little sticks out. No feelings, no emotions.

Three or four shots had been fired. Some of them must have missed as glass littered the floor. It was painfully obvious that some had met their mark, Moxley had been hit, Abigail was on the floor next to him her hands pressed tightly on his shoulder, already crimson red. She kept on kissing his forehead and whispering into his ear. I couldn't make out what she was saying, my ears were ringing, their voices were nulled. But she was saying the same thing over and over again. Moxley's hands were wrapped around his knee, another wound, he let go with one hand and bought it up to her cheek tenderly. His fingerprints remained on her face. Etched in blood.

I could hear giggling, just behind me. I don't know how it had happened but Kelly had managed to move around behind me her knife was pressed tightly against my neck, I'd dropped my own knife. I didn't want to think about what would happen if I tried to break free, I could already feel my own blood trickling down my neck. My head was banging. She rested her arm on my shoulder and held the gun out in front of my face. I wanted to call out to the other two for help but I was scared, scrap that, I was petrified.

"Abi?" Kelly's voice was high, manic. Abigail didn't seem to hear her. They were trapped inside of their own little world. She had an arm wrapped around Jon's waist and was pulling him backwards towards the door an inch at a time.

"Stop what you're doing and look at me. Look at me. Look at me." Every time she said it her knife seemed to sink deeper into my neck.

I could see a huge chunk of glass stuck in Abigail's hand but she didn't seem to notice. She kept putting weight on it, engrossed in Moxley alone.

"Abigail?" Kelly tried again, screaming this time. Abigail pulled the front door wide open and pushed Jon out onto the porch. He screamed at her "Abigail, no." She pushed the door shut and turned to face us.

"What? What do you want?" Abigail wasn't in the mood to talk.

"I want you to pretend that I'm the one holding the gun. You think you can do that?"

Abigail pushed herself up to her feet. Now she noticed her hand, noticed the blood. Gingerly she pulled the glass out and threw it down onto the floor. "Do you mind if I sit down?" she smiled feebly, "I'm feeling a little queasy."

"Go ahead", Kelly waved her gun towards a sofa in the corner of the room "Knock yourself out."

Abigail did as she was told, but spoke again upon sitting. She still seemed composed, she still looked like she knew exactly what she was going to do "Maybe you let Lucy sit down too? Mike's alive, I'm pretty sure that Jon's going to be ok. Nobodies died Kelly, and that's important, that's important for you after all of this. You don't want to make a mistake and screw that up. You don't want to go down for murder"

"You're right?" Kelly replied, she pushed me forward and I fell down onto the couch next to Abigail. "I've still got the gun, it's not like either of you are going anywhere."

She sat down opposite of us the gun pointed towards my head. "You know, this last couple of months have been difficult but not without reward. I particularly enjoyed the moment when I blatantly hit you in the middle of the ring. Of course no one suspected me of malice – poor Kelly Kelly, she just doesn't know any better. I knocked you out cold, and you blamed her. I guess the moral of the story is that we don't underestimate me. Don't you think I'm stupid! Don't you think you can use your words to trick me! I might act dumb but I'm a friggin brain surgeon." She laughed at her own joke. "I was telling Lucy about how we met. How you were going to turn me into a real wrassler, then she came along and she ruined everything.

"I was asked by Vince to assess your abilities, both of you."

"And?"

"My assessment was that if it was down to effort, no one deserved to be divas champion as much as you. I enjoyed working with you; it was unusual to find someone who wanted it so badly."

Kelly beamed, a genuine smile – ear to ear. She looked like a child who just got a gold star at school.

"But trying hard isn't good enough", Abigail cut in, "I didn't think there was a huge capacity for improvement. I thought that where you are now, it's pretty much as good as you're going to get. Some people just aren't cut out for the industry."

"You told Vince that?"

"You can't even run the ropes properly. You have other assets, things that'll keep you on television for the next five to ten years but if you're asking me whether you're the new Sarah Del Rey, or Madsion Eagles then no." She gave Kelly a moment to digest the information before continuing, "You see Lucy had nothing to do with your position on the roster. It was me. You just aren't good enough. I'm sorry."

Kelly was quiet, just for a second, and then she stood up quickly and held the gun tightly with both hands. "You're lying." She screamed, and turned the gun on Abigail. "You're just saying this to get her out. Say it again. Say it now that the gun's pointed at your head. Say it again. I dare you." Abigail was about to speak but I knew that despite what she thought she'd got the situation wrong. Blunt honesty wasn't going to help anyone.

I cut her off, "Shut up Abigail. This isn't helping. I need to tell the truth."

Kelly took a couple of steps back then looked across at me desperately. I knew that I had her. "You're absolutely right." I started, "I was desperate to get into the business, I got a development deal but things weren't working out. Then I met Phil, and he offered me an in. He'd just split up with Beth and he told me about him and Abigail. How he was in love with her. How he was desperate to have her. We made a deal. I would start a relationship with him, make Abigail jealous, and in return he would arrange for me to get a job on Raw. Pull some strings, use his influence."

"I knew it." She smiled, then looked across to Abigail, "You see, she was using you. They were both using you."

"There were other benefits." I smiled, enjoying playing a part, enjoying the semblance of control. "I mean the sex was amazing. A surprising perk. I decided that I wanted to keep Punk all for myself. When the phone calls started, I knew it wasn't Abigail but I thought to myself, if God gives you lemons."

Abigail looked across at me. She looked hurt, I wasn't sure whether she was acting or not. "I don't understand." She whimpered.

"It's just like Kelly said. Everyone thinks they're so special, they're so intelligent. But the truth is you're all so easy to play. I knew that if I worked hard I could get you out of the way."

"She's a whore, Abigail" Kelly chimed in. "A dirty slut. She doesn't deserve to lace your boots."

"No." Abigail seemed to be deep in thought then her eyes met Kelly's, they were wide, earnest. "No. You're right. Now that I think about it. My head was all over the place. I was confused, I was heavily medicated, and I had Phil, and he was the only person I was talking to. And he kept talking to me. Talking about you, and this new girl. And how much better she was than you. And how it would be a travesty if you succeeded and she didn't. Oh god. I was so stupid. The way that he spoke to me. Like he was the only person in the world that understood me."

"You're not stupid. They manipulated you. They took advantage of your situation." Kelly egged her on.

"You are stupid." I smiled. "I bet you started to have feelings for him didn't you. All the cosying up we did in front of you. Phil told me you hadn't been… you hadn't been intimate with a man since you were raped. He told me everything. I knew everything - before our little coming out party. And we used it." Abigail stood up, Kelly didn't even flinch. I carried on buoyed by a small success. "Am I hurting your feelings? Every single time he touched me, touched my arm, touched by knee, kissed my neck – it was all for you, to get a reaction out of you."

Abigail moved away from me, around the broken table, closer to Kelly. "I trusted you", she murmured.

"It was beautiful, how easy it was to control you. You started to want him didn't you?"

"No."

"Every time he kissed me, you wished that it was you. Every time his hand stroked my cheek, glided down my neck, lingered at the top of my chest you wanted me to be you. That's what Moxley was about, the kind of wrestler that Punk despised; suddenly you're hanging off his arm, trying to make him jealous. I'm right aren't I? You wanted him."

Abigail lunged at me pushing me across the back of the sofa. I heard Kelly laugh as my head smacked against the floor disorientating me. I needed to work on my tuck and roll. Once there she let go and turned quickly pushing the sofa back at Kelly, and knocking her off her feet. As she did that someone else crashed through the door like a bolt of lightning rushing across to Kelly struggling with her on the floor. The gun went off twice.

I looked to my left, Abigail was gone. I forced myself to my feet still feeling a little groggy. Kelly was stood shell shocked the gun hanging limply from her hand. CM Punk was lying at her feet, lifeless. Abigail was kneeling on the floor next to him stroking his face. More bodies had entered the room. I couldn't make out the faces. I was looking at Kelly, transfixed by Kelly. She was crying, like she was a victim, like she needed help. I moved closer to her. Gently I took the gun out of her hand, and then I punched her in the face.

Medics filed into the room, one of them pulled Abigail out of the way. "He's not breathing" were the last words I remember from that evening.


	16. Closure

Autopilot must've kicked in.

I wasn't aware of how it had happened or how long it had taken but I found myself in the hospital waiting room, my head resting on Beth Phoenix' shoulder. We weren't alone. Maryse was there, obviously waiting for news about Mike, alongside Vince, and Linda McMahon who'd been in the area for the Wrestlemania party.

The whole of my body ached.

I looked up at the clock. Four am. Eve Torres came into the room carrying a tray of hot drinks. She settled them down on the table silently, and sat down alongside Maryse. The blonde Canadian's eyes were bloodshot. Her mascara had drawn lines through to the bottom of her face.

Briefly, we made eye contact.

She turned her attention away to her nails, to the clock, to the ceiling, and then back to her nails. She blamed me.

The room was silent. We waited for answers.

Four o clock became four fifteen, became four thirty. Eventually the passing of time became too much for Vince McMahon, a man not used to waiting for anything. He stood up suddenly, grumbled something to his wife, and strode out of the room. For her part she smiled sweetly, and shrugged her shoulders.

Four thirty became four forty five. I listened as the second hand slowly, agonisingly tic-tocked around the face of the clock. Eve had been in and out of the room countless times filling up drinks, trying to do something, anything helpful. Linda sat by herself flicking through decade-old magazines, while Maryse examined the sleeve of her coat – anything to avoid my gaze. Only Beth attempted conversation, every now and then mumbling platitudes like "no news is good news", and smiling weakly. The ticking of the clock grew louder, and louder.

The door swung open.

Vince made a bee-line for Maryse. "He's out of surgery. They say that you can go and see him now."

She cried, relief rather than grief, then pulled a small mirror out of her bag and fixed up her face. She still wouldn't let him see her as anything other than perfect.

Mr McMahon continued. "Abigail is with the boy from development. They're both ok."

"And Punk?" it was Beth.

Vince sighed, and then struggled momentarily in an attempt to find the right words. "It doesn't look good." Nobody said anything. All the hatred I'd felt for him just five hours earlier had faded away. He'd tried to save us, and now he was going to die. Tears poured down Beth's face, and even Linda, who up until now had seemed so placid, so far away from the rest of us, had put down her magazine and lowered her head. For my part, I was running on empty. I didn't have anything left. No energy to console, to speak, to grieve, to cry.

Eve helped Maryse to her feet and they left the room, left us with our thoughts. Beth stood up, using a sleeve to wipe the tears away. Her voice was strong, unwavering "I should call Colt. He should be here." She left the room, avoiding a reassuring hand to the shoulder from Vince. Vince sat back down next to Linda and they whispered quietly between themselves before standing simultaneously, pulling cell-phones from their bags, and leaving me alone.

The room felt huge. A vast expanse that threatened to engulf me, suck me into the sterile walls, make me a part of the building. I begged for such relief from the emotions that swirled around my head, beating at my skull, and gnawing at my brain. I crawled across the room right into its corner and hugged at my legs. Waiting for release.

Once again I fell asleep.

Feeling woozy, I kept my eyes tight shut. A creaking, squeaking noise pounded at my head. I needed an aspirin. My mouth was dry, as if I'd chowed down on a bag of dust.

"Wake up princess." A giggle and some hushed whispering.

After taking a few moments to figure out my place, I slowly, groggily, opened my eyes. To be hit in the face by a packet of crisps. Standing quickly, several coats fell to my feet. I looked across at my assailant.

Mike was being wheeled around the hospital by a healthier looking Maryse. "You seem strangely chirpy." I said, forcing a smile.

"And why wouldn't he be?" Maryse cut in, "He's a hero." She beamed with pride, stroking his face gently.

"And the pain medication is awesome", he chuckled to himself before throwing me a bottle of water. "Here."

"Where is everyone?" I asked, unscrewing the bottle top and taking a long hard swig.

They looked at each other momentarily. Finally, Maryse spoke. "We didn't want to wake you."

"There was nothing that you could do, and you needed your sleep." Mike interjected.

The world was crumbling around me.

"Oh God no." exclaimed Maryse shrilly, as if reading my mind, "No, no, no, no, no."

"Phil pulled through." Mike added drily. "It's early days but prognosis is good. This is a good day."

I sat down calmly, exhausted, and slowly finished my drink. Hardly hearing anything else that they said. Later on I walked past Punk's room, but it was filled to the brim with well-wishers, and the various gifts that they had bought. He was spaced out, high on drugs that he probably hadn't had any choice in being administered. I watched as he was cooed over by Abigail, and Beth, and Eve. Now wasn't the time to say thank you. I checked myself into the hotel across the road, drew the curtains, switched my phone off and ignored the world.

At around eleven pm I became restless. I found Phil asleep in his room. Wires, and tubes exited his skin. His breathing was laboured but the nurse assured me that this was normal. I sat down quietly next to him. The seat was warm; somebody else must've been there minutes before me. I didn't know what to do. I didn't want to talk, as I didn't want to disturb him. I also didn't like the idea of talking to myself; it seemed like such a waste of time, and emotion. I just watched him.

I'd been there for no more than five minutes when he finally spoke. "I wondered whether I'd see you." His voice was gravelly, and painful to hear.

"Can I get you a drink?" I smiled.

"Nil by mouth. In case they have to take me in again. There's a sponge on a stick in that cup over there. If you wouldn't mind dabbing my lips."

I did as I was told, and then we sat there in silence for several more minutes.

"Abigail told me you knocked Kelly out. That must've been sweet?"

"I wish I could remember it." I smiled again but this time without much feeling.

"I'm sorry," he said, suddenly "about the other night. What you heard, what I did, and what I said."

"You don't have to…"

He cut me off. "You're gonna let me off just because I took a bullet to the chest?"

"I guess I am. But I didn't buy you anything. No card, no balloon. My gift to you is forgiveness."

"That's just cheap." He smiled. Then coughed. He hunched forward in pain and I stood up to get some help. "No, no, no." he stopped me. "I'm fine. I'm ok. I promise. The machines'll go off if I'm in any real danger. I don't want any more painkillers." A wave of sympathy swept through me. Over the months I'd got used to his suffering in silence after a mis-timed move during a match. I couldn't imagine the pain he must've endured over the last few hours in his determination not to take additional medication. He looked very small on the hospital bed. More vulnerable than I'd seen him before, or since. Beads of sweat clung to the tattoos on his upper arms.

"Don't look at me like that", he grinned, "I'm fine. What's on your mind?"

"Why do you do it to yourself? I've spent the last few months feeling sorry for myself. And yesterday, when I heard you talking to her all I could think was 'how could he do that to me?' But now, you've basically put your life on hold in the hope that she'll realise that she loves you. You've had chances to be happy, chances of a normal relationship, and you've thrown them away for her. I don't understand that. I don't understand why you don't just give up. I feel sorry for you."

"You feel sorry for me?"

"I do."

He looked for a second amused. Then his smile shifted slightly. "I love her." He said.

"And what about Moxley? What if it's the real deal?"

"I'll wait."

I sighed. "And that's what's so unfair. It was unfair on me, it'll be unfair on any other woman you date, and it's unfair on you. You're going to be a very lonely man."

"Well that's cheered me up. You came here in the middle of the night to tell me that?"

"No. I came to say thank you. Not just for last night, but for everything you've done to help me with my career."

"That sounds like a goodbye."

"It's closure."

I kissed him gently on the cheek, and left the room.

Six months later and life is perfect. Not because I'm in a relationship, I've learnt that I shouldn't measure myself based on the man that's in my life, but because my career is going well. If anything the experience I went through reminded me of how hard I'd worked to get into the industry, and how much I was prepared to accept to become a success. The reminder was timely and I poured all of my heart and all of my energy into doing as well as was physically possible. I accepted the transfer to Smackdown and my career prospects were boosted by the fact that not only did Michelle leave, but her partner in crime Layla was injured too. The story of what I'd been through was used to build me up as a babyface and then facilitate a shocking and effective heel turn which led to a feud with Natalya. I didn't win the title but my name's on the map and our matches were excellent, even if I do say so myself. Mike returned to the ring a couple of months ago to a massive ovation. Although he denies it, secretly I think he enjoys being cheered. Kelly's trial is still on going, pending a full psychiatric report. I received a letter from her doctor asking me to visit, he thought that it would help with her recovery, it would help her understand the consequences of her actions. I politely declined. I still speak to Abigail, a lot, and I have to admit that she was a massive help in my transition from face to heel. She's still with Moxley, they seem to be doing well. For Phil's part he just waits, bouncing from one relationship to another.

I still feel sorry for him.


End file.
